


Arachne

by JQ (musicmillennia)



Series: The Ward Series [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: (Sort of. More like hybrid dragons), Abuse, Asexual Mick, Centaurs, Disturbing Themes, Dragons, Fluff, Horror, M/M, Magic, Mother-Son Relationship, Suicide, implied rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 15:12:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7762726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/JQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mick, the centaur, and Len, the dragon hybrid.</p><p>Warning: read tags before reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arachne

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Coldheat Ward](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Coldheat+Ward).



> Um. Hello, dear ward...I think I should go ahead and apologize again.
> 
> Btw I don't know the name of Mick's real mother. The daughter I usually write for him, Cece Rory, is named after this one.

In every memory he has of her, Mick’s mother is bathed in light. Doesn't matter if it’s from that cheap overhead lightbulb that used to hang over their kitchen table, or the summer sun caressing the windows while she bakes, Cecilia Rory is radiant in her son’s mind.

His favorite recollections always happen, however brief they sometimes are, when he's staring into open flame: his mother’s little secret smile as she tip-toes into his room, a nymph under moonlight.

“Hey, Mickey,” she whispers, “are you ready?”

And Mick always is. She takes his hand and leads him downstairs, then out the door and to the barn. There's an empty stall with her alchemy table and spellbooks littering the place instead of hay and shit. But Mick’s used to all that; it's the hot chocolate on the tiny wood table that sends the starbursts of excitement in his belly into fireworks. Hot chocolate means they're gonna be here for a while.

They are. With a snap of her fingers and a flick of her wrist, his mother weaves fire into all kinds of shapes. She always likes to start out simple, like a star or droplet of water, before building to grand complexities such as a horse galloping alone on a beach, or a dragon curling around they're new castle while humans run and the princess cheers.

Her face, pale and perfect, thin lips curled in a pretty smile, enraptures him almost as much as her flames.

She never judges him for not inheriting her magic. She always tells him there are plenty other kinds, such as witchcraft, or even creativity. Mick always laughs at the second one, but she simply shakes her head with that little knowing smile.

The very next day, she's dancing to Captain and Tennille while she bakes, and Mick watches her from the fields. His father has no idea about the fire.

“Mick.”

“Mm.”

“Right leg.”

But that's all gone now. Instead, Mick grimaces at a cold safe house window as he lifts his front hoof. He's tried cleaning them himself plenty of times, but let's just say it didn't work out.

As always, Snart neatly avoids his scarred frog while he talks: “Once we’ve got to point A, you're heading to…”

Mick tunes him out again as moonlight reaches out to him again.

_“Hey, Mickey. Are you ready?”_

(~*~)

Cecilia doesn't. Didn't. Use her magic for selfish reasons. When her husband went after her, beat another child into her, she wore her teeth and bloodied her lovely lips to keep from screaming in front of Mick. Sparks ignited from her fingertips, but she held them back.

Nate knew better than to go after Mick, though. But that didn't stop him from using Cecilia’s pain against him anyway.

No, Mick wasn't born with a Shire horse’s ass.

(~*~)

“That twink wanted to fuck you.”

Lenny hums. Turns the page of his magazine.

“You wanted to fuck him.”

Another hum. Mick snorts, pawing at the dirt.

“Snart--”

“Mick. Shut up.”

Lenny doesn't move from his back.

(~*~)

Mick doesn't really know what to do with sex. After being forced to witness his parents’ example, he doesn't see the point.

He watches porn and shit. Tries jerking off. Gets to second base with a few local kids. He can get off just fine, but there's no interest there. He doesn't get excited; it's a clinical process more than anything.

But fire. Damn, if fire was sex, Mick wouldn't be able to stop.

His dad calls him broken. His mother kisses his head and calls him wonderful.

He loves her. He loves her. He loves her.

(~*~)

Mick trots over to Lisa while she's casting. She lets him watch her fire.

Len’s ice stabs his legs, but he doesn't turn around. Snart’s his partner, sure. Lisa, though, Lisa’s got Cecilia’s flames.

Snart makes him bleed. Mick couldn't care less.

(~*~)

Nate makes Cecilia bleed. Mick wants revenge.

“Oh darling,” she says, smiling through her black eye, “put that out of your mind. Here, I made you a new scarf!”

The scarf swirls with flames of all kinds. Mick wears it, of course, but for once he's undeterred. He's not strong enough to fight his father on his own. He doesn't have the magic or the muscle. His mother won't help herself, so he'll just have to show her she has to.

No, Mick wasn't born with a Shire horse’s ass.

(~*~)

Lenny falls asleep on Mick’s back again. Another rough day for him. He's too much like Cecilia: he’ll shatter his own hand for a loved one, but he’d rather give gifts when he's beaten without cause, like his scars are a fucking Christmas tree.

Mick keeps a steady walk. The clopping of his hooves keeps Lenny dreaming. Did the same for his mother, too.

That's why Mick keeps his fingers on Lenny’s pulse the whole way.

(~*~)

Mick Rory took an axe.

(He still snickers over that part.)

He went to his favorite horse’s stall, and chopped off his head. With his mother’s tough leather glove in his teeth, he hacks off his legs.

Dad isn't home, so Cecilia can scream as loud as she can. To get her moving, Mick moves up a bit, chopping off the flesh just below his navel. He's trembling and woozy, but Mommy knows what to do.

He loves her. He loves her. He loves her.

The legs are a mess of ashes by now. Nothing can be done. So, with wrenching sobs, Cecilia grabs her needle and thread.

No. Mick wasn't born with a Shire horse’s ass. But when his dad comes home that night, he rises on bloody hooves and stands before his mother.

“Now you can't hurt her anymore,” he snarls.

Cecilia moans and vomits next to Tennille’s severed head.

(~*~)

It hadn't taken Cecilia long to die.

It goes without saying that Mick's not like other centaurs. There's magic in him, sure, but he doesn't have those heightened senses or nothin’. He can't smell what she's done when she smiles at him and asks for another ride.

She hugs the human part of her son until Mick is once more soaked with blood.

(~*~)

“What're these?” Snart asks.

Mick turns to the tiny fourteen year old, who's tracing the stitches along his waist. They pulse with their own heartbeat, faintly glowing with something like an inner fire.

Lenny allows Mick to press a kiss to his pretty lips, bathed in sunlight.

“I'll tell yah later.”

When he does, they're in their mid-twenties. Len turns liquid white. By then, Mick’s sewing a werewolf’s arm. He's got his mother’s knack for stitching.

“Well?” Mick snaps. “Did I finally shut you up?”

Len responds by snatching a step ladder. Once they're almost eye level, he takes the needle and thread.

“I wasn't born with these wings either,” he murmurs. The dragon wings twitch as if to support the claim. “Best permanent shields I could find.”

As soon as Mick can feel his new limb, he skims his claw over Len’s webbing, feeling the bulging veins bump against him as he goes.

That's the first time Lenny looks him in the eye and says, “I know I can trust you, Mick.”

(~*~)

“Wait,” Haircut says, “didn't you guys have human parents?” his eyes light up, “Do your bloodlines have latent genes?”

Len and Mick smirk at each other.

“Yes,” Len says, “That's what it is. Latent.”

**Author's Note:**

> So now you can guess why this fic is called Arachne.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Sorry it's not my best work. I'm sick as a dog...which reminds me, did anyone get Fullmetal Alchemist flashbacks while reading this? That's partly what inspired this fic tbh.


End file.
